


Watered Down

by becuzmdsaidineededpersonality



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Epsilon Program, M/M, Scuba Diving, Tract Finding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 04:47:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30100503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becuzmdsaidineededpersonality/pseuds/becuzmdsaidineededpersonality
Summary: The Lost Boys Vol. 2 is out! Here is one of the two stories I submitted for my first fanzine!Just as last time, this zine is for free. You can get it here: https://gumroad.com/l/thelostboysvol2 You’ll notice that it says “$5”, but to get it for free, you need to set $5 as the price and then use the discount code thelostboys2 on the checkout. However, all donations will go to charity! (The Trevor Project)So excited to have been working on my first fanzine with all of these wonderful people! Please be sure to check it out as soon as you can for lots of fun stories, heartbreaking tales, twists and turns, amazing artwork and some NSFW content....
Relationships: Michael De Santa/Trevor Philips
Kudos: 5





	Watered Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trepidatingboarfetus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trepidatingboarfetus/gifts), [mourn3d](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mourn3d/gifts), [kingofthings (tmrs)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmrs/gifts).



> Thank you so much to these three wonderful people for helping me with my first fanzine and helping to cheer me on from the sideline with both the stories I submitted! Please be sure to check out all three of these amazing authors! (https://trepidatingboarfetus.tumblr.com/ and https://mourn3d.tumblr.com/ and https://kingofthings.tumblr.com/)

_“Where the first of the fleet succumbed to the waves, there the message is seeded….”_

That was the message Marnie had sent Michael.

He sighed, agitated and proceeded across the dock of the Sonar Collections Dock, mere feet away from where he watched Abigail Mathers take off with the last pieces of evidence, when he came to the horrific conclusion that she had brutally killed her husband, by causing his submarine to malfunction by tampering with the airlocks. But the man also walked out on his wife and kids, so Michael would be lying if he said he felt fully sorry for him.

There were a few fishers around at the end of the dock, some tourists that had gathered around the café with “eco-friendly’ plastic cups in their hands as they chattered about and took pictures of the rocks near the dock and a Davis High School sophomore class that was currently listening to a lab assistant drone on and on about the importance of the nuclear waste collection program which Michael was currently, partially footing the bill for.

There were some benefits to owning the Sonar Collections Dock. He could get free dingy and scuba gear whenever he wanted, got a nice $250,000 co-payout and he got a nice little ego boost from the messages Dr. Varley would send him about all the wonderful work their research dock was doing in helping clean up all the sludge the corporate gods poured into the ocean every single day.

Dr. Varley…there was a person he didn’t exactly know how to feel about. On the one hand, she could be extremely overbearing with all her over enthusiastic environmentalism and commercialism focused on ‘saving the oceans” which was basically her entire personality.

But…on the other hand, she had a surprisingly small ego for someone as intelligent as she was, which was rare nowadays.

She also would often invite him to come and help with collecting some of the nuclear waste barrels, which yes, at times, could be annoying, but it was somewhat nice to be included in something.

Michael cringed internally when he realized his midlife crisis depression was bad enough, he was agreeing to helping to scuba dive for nuclear barrels just so he could talk with underpaid lab assistants and college interns about the ocean.

And the entire “save the oceans” thing, was something he did genuinely care about.

He despised the fact that all these corporations were just destroying the ocean with little care for any of the vast coral reefs they were destroyed, some of which were literally hundreds of years old or the entire species they were destroying.

He always had been more of a water type and swimming around in silence, was calming and helped him ease some of the burning negative emotions that constantly ate at his damned soul.

And Dr. Varley was currently working on a documentary about the work the sonar team was doing and the fact that she had asked Michael for advice with all the editing after she saw he had helped produce Meltdown was just…incredible.

Besides, she was _very_ persuasive with all the ecofriendly, “do your part” propaganda and Michael found himself skipping the plastic straws when he went to get his overpriced coffee at the Bean Machine on his way to his errands for the day and having yet another goal on his nicotine addiction counseling chart on why he would quit smoking by the end of his program.

“Mr., De Santa!”

Speak of the devil.

Dr. Varley practically skipped across the dock before wrapping her arms around Michael’s waist to pull him for a hug. She barely came up to his shoulders. He usually didn’t like to be touched…but her positive energy was infectious, warm and welcoming.

And soon he found himself being swarmed by Dr. Varley’s legion of college students and volunteers who were staring at him with wide, soft eyes.

Michael couldn’t help but smile and chuckle at the positive attention he was receiving as he returned the hug. “I told you a million times…you can just call me, Michael.”

Dr. Varley pulled away and brushed away the idea with her hand. “Nonsense, nonsense! That would be unprofessional and rude! I’m so glad you’re here! We just had some eggs hatch in the feather lab! New condors’ chicks! You have to come and see!”

It was at this moment that Michael realized he was being dragged by his arm and being pushed forward towards the opening of the dock’s labs by a sea of chattering college students before promptly arriving at the heat boxes that were making little peeping noises.

Dr. Varley clasped her hands together with a smile that threatened to break open her face. “And now for the best part!!!!”

She lifted the lid and Michael peaked inside to see little baby birds looking up at him with their little beady black eyes and hopping up excitedly at the sight of the new visitor.

Dr. Varley raised a knowing eyebrow towards Michael with a shit eating grin and Michael silently cursed himself for whatever stupid, dopy, face he was making. “Want to hold one?”

Before he could answer, a small bird that was more fluff than condor was being shoved into his hands.

Michael hated himself even more for going all misty eyes at the little grey ball in his hands. He rubbed his thumb over the warm, soft feathers as gently as he could, scared if he exerted even a little bit of extra force, then the small bird would be crushed. In a small compulsive thought, he could imagine himself doing that, but when the small beak began softly gnawing on his wrist, he found he couldn’t do it.

“There are so few of them left…” Dr. Varley said in uncharacteristic softness, breaking through his dark thoughts. “We hope this sanctuary effort helps to save them. Luckily, we got an anonymous donor for our climate change and bird fund after the government’s funds dried up. It was like a miracle.”

“Yeah…weird… Guess someone must of have saw your documentary on tv and decided to give you guys some funding…” Michael mumbled softly knowing damn well, exactly where that “anonymous” fund came from.

It was anonymous, not because he wanted to be a secret good Samaritan, but because if this ever got out to a certain somebody-

Dr. Varley clasped her hands together and let out a small squeak. “Did you get a chance to see it?”

“Huh?”

“The documentary? What did you think?”

Michael sighed and handed the small bird to one of the lab assistants.

“I liked it all. I thought that downwards camera swoop you did when you were showing the damage of the corals from climate changes served to really get the audience emotionally invested. Some of narration in the part about the leatherback sea turtle was a bit muffled when you were trying to do that back echo sound…”

Dr. Varley nodded, taking in what he said. “Ah. I see. But we couldn’t have done it without any of your help! I can’t believe you didn’t let us give you any credit in supporters section! Not even an appearance!”

Michael shrugged. “Well, I’m more of a behind the scenes guy…”

And the other issue of the embarrassment of this getting out to certain…people.

Dr. Varley shook her head eagerly. “Oh, my dear goodness! Look at me rambling on and on. We need some help with some of the toxic waste in the water- “

Michael held up a hand. “Actually, I came here to ask for your help with something related to the ocean. And to borrow some of your gear.”

“Well, of course you can! What do you need my help with?”

_God, this is so fucking embarrassing…_

“So…you know about the Epsilon, right?”

Dr. Varley raised an eyebrow. “Yes…I heard that ad their leader was doing on the radio. Something about free cookies?”

Michael rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah…that’s them alright. Listen…I’m kind of in a bad way with them and they need to go salvage something for them out in the ocean. Problem is the only thing they sent me was the riddle.”

Michael reached into his back pocket to pull out the **_We All Came from The Same Tree - The Science of the Epsilon Program_** book he had in his back pocket and turned to the story he believed referenced the riddle Marnie had sent him.

The one about the thetan, Calypso, drowned the first of the krant fleet, Kraff had sent to take out the last of the thetans…

Yeah…Michael had no idea what the fuck that meant either.

But there were pictures, which helped him find the first tract last time! (Albeit after fifteen hours of research)

Dr. Varley adjusted her glasses to get a better look. “Hmmm. Well, I don’t know, Mr. De Santa. This isn’t like on land where mostly everything is mapped out and landmarks take hundreds of years to shift whereas the ocean is much more chaotic. In fact, sometimes we can’t even graph dry land correctly! Remember those two college girls who starved to death in the Paleto Forest?”

Michael nodded, remembering the exact situation when that almost happened to Trevor and himself…worst part was it was in a blizzard.

“And besides, how do we even know this is a real place? You know how the Epsilon are…this could just be exactly what it seems…a story.”

She went over to the various ocean charts she had scattered about.

“When we got an anonymous tip off about some waste from a fisher in the bay off the east coast near Palomino Highlands, there was a sunken paddle streamer that kind of looks like the one in the pictures. There looked to be some trash around which might have been one of the tracts you are looking for. We weren’t able to look close enough though because I had a meeting so don’t get your hopes up.”

She grabbed a marker and circled the spot in red ink before rolling the map up. She walked him outside where two of the students were already getting the gear for him.

Dr. Varley looked apologetically at him. “I wish I could come with you, but I already promised to show the class over there the hatchlings- “

Michael waved a hand at her. “Don’t worry about it. I’m a big boy. I can handle myself.”

“But you shouldn’t go alone! It could be dangerous especially when dealing with the currents-”

Michael chuckled as he grabbed his wetsuit. “It’s just a paddle streamer. I’m pretty sure I can handle myself.”

Dr. Varley, however, would not be swayed. “No. Absolutely not. One of the interns will go with you- “

Suddenly, there was the loud throat clearing noise before a recognizable voice spoke. “Um…hate to interrupt whatever the fuck all this is about but- “

Michael reeled around to glare at Trevor who was leaning against the side of the supply shed.

“What are _you_ doing here?”

Great!

Just fucking perfect!

This place was supposed to be one of the few Trevor-free safe spaces!

“Well, Michael, I'm worried about you.”

Trevor said it so sincerely that Michael couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh, really? The man who's higher than a kite and looks like he just got back from crawling through a sewer pit is worried about me? Ok.”

“Is this one of your friends, Mr. De Santa?”

Before Michael could even get a vowel out, Trevor was already menacingly pacing towards Dr. Varley and snarling “Yes, best friend and who the fuck are you?”

“Dr. Varley. Lead researcher here at the Sonar Nuclear Waste Program and dean of the graduate marine science department at the University of Los Santos.”

She reached out to shake Trevor’s hand. He didn’t take it and just continued to stare with murderous intent.

Michael sighed and decided to step between the two before Trevor’s misguided judgement made the entire situation ten times worse like always.

“This Trevor and he was just leaving- “

“I don't know what the fuck is going on here, and honestly, I don't want to, but at the same time, I feel you should know that Michael is a killer, a liar, and a thief and he wouldn’t hesitate to fuck you over just to turn over a cheap profit.”

Trevor then cupped his hands and shouted to the entire dock. “So, if you got any valuables folks, I suggest you lock them up tight because there is a master criminal prowling around!”

And everyone was now staring at him like he was the grim reaper coming to steal their souls.

Great…

Michael let out a fake laugh. “He’s just kidding. Big kidder this one.”

Before Trevor could make his snark reply Michael took his heel and slammed it onto Trevor’s toes before twisting downwards in a non-verbal warning.

Trevor got the hint.

Dr. Varley nodded. “Well, does he have any experience scuba diving? He could defiantly help with your mission and will keep you safe.”

There were several things wrong with that sentence in reference to anything involving Trevor, but for the sake of making sure Trevor didn't run his stupid-ass mouth anymore, Michael took him along for the ride but decided to give him the silent treatment for good measure.

Trevor was practically on top of Michael, by the time they were three miles from the location when he realized Michael was intentionally not taking any of his bait.

Trevor draped himself over Michael’s shoulder until their noses were practically touching. “Sorry I wasn’t good enough for your perfectionist friends.”

Michael turned his face away to escape Trevor’s putrid breath but won’t give Trevor the satisfaction of getting him riled up.

“I mean come now…I thought you said you were done with the Epsilon and here you are being little errand boy again.”

“Oh really? And who told you that?”

“Your son.”

“Remind me to thank him for that.”

“Yeah… and then Franklin and Tracey said you were running around Mount Chiliad in blue robes. It’s getting a bit weird, Mikey.”

“Oh, and you’re one to talk about weirdness. We’re here. Get off me because I ain’t gonna have us both drown because you have no concept of personal boundaries.”

Trevor huffed but did as he was told, sliding back to mimic Michael’s movement of putting on his mask and goggles.

“Well, _excuse me,_ for being concerned when my friend joins the brainwashing cult.”

“It ain’t like that, T.”

“Then what is it like?”

“None of your fucking business!”

Trevor rolled his eyes as he almost slipped over the side trying to put on his flippers. “Okay be that way. So, what the fuck are we looking for?”

“ _I’m_ looking for a tract. _You’re_ just making sure the currents don’t drag me off or something. I’m not having you fuck this up with any more of your little stunts!”

With that, Michael threw on his mask and flipped back into the water and slowly began letting the weight of the tank strapped to his back take him down the depths where the red marker indicated.

Besides, the quietness of the water finally gave him to time to ponder over what he was going to do about Marnie.

What he had wanted to have happened last time was to have gotten the tract and used it as an excuse to talk with Marnie…maybe take her out to eat and talk with her …and maybe…just maybe she would leave the Epsilon for good.

Tracey was at college so she could stay in her room or one of the many other rooms only being used to store useless shit. It wasn’t like they didn’t have the space.

Problem was when he went to meet with Marnie last time, she wasn’t alone. Tom was with her.

Tom was another person Michael didn’t know how to feel about. When he was scrapping around on the Epsilon website, he found a hyperlink to an old reform school the church used to run out in San Fierro. One of the kids in the video was Tom. It was one of those situations where Michael already figured but kind of wished he didn’t know now.

And Trevor was here now…

Michael swam around at the bottom for a good while with Trevor following from up above, before he saw the sunken paddle streamer. He didn’t see anything at first but after brushing aside a few of the seaweeds-

And there it was.

He grabbed it and they made their way back to the surface and eventually the shore.

Michael wasn’t fully surprised when Trevor followed him back to his car and gotten into the passenger seat. They just sat there in silence.

“You’ve been avoiding me…” Trevor scoffed, his temper visibly ripping across his body. “I don’t get what the big fucking deal is!”

“Oh really? Man? What? You mean when we went to have a good time and you proceeded to…to fucking…have a drug overdose…and we had to go to the hospital? You mean that?”

Michael hadn’t registered himself turning on the car and was surprised to see that he was already pulling into a nearby Up-n-Atom Burger’s parking lot.

“OH, THAT IS SO LIKE YOU! Thinking you’re better than everyone else you, fat, fake, hypocrite.”

Michael said nothing as he parked the car and went around to grab his robes from the trunk with Trevor following closely behind…so close he stepped on Michael’s heels a few times.

Michael pulled a messily folded piece of notebook paper out of his back pocket and shoved it into Trevor’s hand along with his wallet.

“Here, why don’t you go make yourself fucking useful for once. Get what’s on there _. Exactly as it is written, T._ And get whatever you want. I’m going to change.”

“Oh, so now I’m complacent in your little cult scheme too?”

_“The list, T.”_

A few moments later, after Michael had put on the bottom of his anti-thesis robes when there was an obnoxious loud bang on the door. He unlocked it so Trevor could march in.

“It’s ordered. Should be ready in about ten minutes. Five if I- “

Michael sent a warning glare Trevor’s way.

“Alright fine…be that way. So, are like…the Epsilon…vegetarians?”

Michael sighed. So tiresome…

“In the literature, Kraff has red hair.”

“So?”

“ _So,_ they aren’t allowed to have any red outside of their murals! That includes red meat dumbass!”

“Alright! No need to get your holy robes in a twist!”

Michael doesn’t even attempt to take that bait.

Trevor chuckled. “Honestly, kind of thought you would be flattered to have someone pass out on you during a the good old 69er- “

Michael whipped around as he pulled his arm through the other sleeve. “This isn’t funny, Trevor!”

Trevor rolled his eyes. “Maybe not for you because you can’t ever find the humor in any situation…fucking typical.”

“Well, excuse me. for not wanting to have to watch you slowly kill yourself over time!”

“Oh, you’re one to talk with your cancer sticks and crippling alcoholism!”

“At least, I’m actually doing something about! But you ain’t even fucking trying! In fact, you actively smoked extra just to fucking piss me off and that’s not okay!”  
  


“Speed helps me in bed which you love and beg for so, so much- “

“A good time isn’t worth your life, T.”

“And a bunch of hypocritical lectures isn’t worth yours.”

Michael pulled down his sleeve, shoved his shoulder into Trevor’s face and pointed to the nicotine patch on his skin. “What’s this? What’s this right there?”

Michael had to look away. It was…better to look away when Trevor looked at him like that, before those hazel eyes dragged him back into the life and addictions he was so desperately trying to escape.

When the food came, Michael realized he had made a huge mistake.

The bag, the napkins…even the fucking logo…was RED.

Michael felt his anger boiling up and waited until he was in the car to let it out. Why did every time he tried to do anything-?

He almost missed Trevor snatching the bags beside him.

“What do you think you’re- “

Trevor pulled out a black marker from the glove compartment and began coloring in the offending color before shoving the bags into Michael’s face.

“There you go, you big baby! Got to be fucking dramatic about everything! Or is black a _forbidden color_ too because that’s kind of racist.”

Michael rolled his eyes but was genuinely touched by the gesture.

He didn’t want to say it but-

“Thanks, T. Maybe this won’t be a fucking disaster, after all.”

Trevor smacked Michael’s shoulder playfully as he turned the car out of the lot.

“Nice of you to have so much faith in me and actually some gratitude for a fucking change!”

“Oh, hardy har-har!”

By the time they got to the meeting spot to deliver the tract, the sky was pitch black and the only thing luminating the desert was the headlights of a teal tailgater which was partially blocked out by Tom’s silhouette…but no Marnie.

Michael squeezed Trevor’s shoulder. “Wait here. These people are a bit jump so can you please not be…well…you…for ten fucking minutes.”

Trevor looked displeased but nevertheless, complied…which Michael didn’t know was a good or bad thing. Probably a mix of both just like the man himself.

Michael slowly got on the car and felt his pocket for his piece.

Tom raised the wrong hand. “Kifflom, Ex-Brother Zolag.”

“Where’s Marnie?”

Tom tilted his head, the fake smile slipping a bit. “Sister Shupar isn’t feeling well…but she deeply apologizes for her absence.”

Michael’s stomach sank as his mind went to the darker possibilities…

Michael’s eyes fell on the poorly wrapped mock-cast on Tom’s arm. “I’m sure she does. What happened to your arm?”

“I fell off a construction crane while I was helping build the new church in San Fierro…old reform school which you would know if you had been paying attention.”

Michael waved Trevor over and Tom followed closely behind.

Tom jumped back upon seeing Trevor climb out of the car, first aid kit and flashlight in hand.

“Wh-what is this _unsavable_ doing here?”

Trevor looked like he was about to say something in response but shut his mouth when Michael shot a venomous look towards him. Michael grabbed Tom’s shoulder to keep him from squirming away…Michael knew for Tom that leaving without the tract was not an option…

“He’s promised to behave _and not say anything!_ T hold up that flashlight. Tom if you want the tract, you better get your ass over here because I ain’t having you walk around lookin’ like one of the TB victims in Sanitorium-“

“I don’t understand that reference!” Tom snarled.

Trevor chuckled under his breath until Michael kicked his shin.

And that was how they ended up all setting together on the hood of the car, enjoying their respective burgers in peace…that was after Michael practically had to hold Tom down just to fix his hand while playing anatomy teacher, so when these _“accidents”_ happened again…

At first, Tom just stared at the bag, as though it had offended him. It was mostly just for show because when Michael went to change the radio station, he saw Tom slowly nibbling at some of the fries. Trevor was in his own world of consuming food like the fucking animal he was…but Michael wasn’t gonna say shit because Trevor was, at least, behaving himself.

Michael stared up at the vast starry blanket spanning over them and sighed contently.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr to know what your spam inbox feels like! 
> 
> https://becuzmdsaidineededpersonality.tumblr.com/


End file.
